


a rainbow on a wooden stick

by lotts (LottieAnna)



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, birthday shoutout to @marner_93 #21, fluff and fortnite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2019-05-02 22:37:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14555031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LottieAnna/pseuds/lotts
Summary: Mitch Marner fucking hates Auston Matthews.(On a related note, Mitch Marner fucking loves Auston Matthews.)





	a rainbow on a wooden stick

**Author's Note:**

> IF YOU FOUND THIS THROUGH GOOGLING, KNOW ANYONE MENTIONED IN THIS STORY PERSONALLY, OR ARE MENTIONED YOURSELF: please, please click away. This is a work of fiction and nothing written in this story is true. Any accurate information used in this story is publicly available information about public figures, the rest is made up, 100%.
> 
> Auston posted a birthday insta story for Mitch that was an exact recreation of the post Mitch made for him back in September so I naturally chose to cope with the fact that these two are ruining my life by writing fic, and then Ali and Ash and Hailey read it and were perfect and wonderful, as always.

Mitch Marner fucking hates Auston Matthews.

Like. Okay. Auston is one of his best friends, and they’ve got this nice thing going where they would lowkey fly to the moon for each other, and Mitch has been dealing with all sorts of weird and stressful romantic feelings for the better part of two years in order to maintain said friendship, but also, he’s the fucking worst person on the face of the planet, and Mitch would like to lovingly punch his stupidly beautiful, stupidly _stupid_ face.

Auston is in fucking Arizona, and it’s Mitch’s birthday, and they’re just dicking around on Fortnite in the middle of the afternoon, and it’s all perfectly normal until Auston goes, “Yo, Mitchy, be my boyfriend?”

Like that’s just a thing people do, casually ask their friends out in the middle of a game of Fortnite, over the internet, where at least two of Zach’s brothers and a bunch of random strangers can, like. Hear them.

Mitch fucking _hates_ him.

“Dude, time and a place,” Mitch says. “I’m trying to fucking snipe—”

“That’s not a no,” Auston says, and Mitch can hear his smile over the shitty quality voice chat. Honestly, Mitch wouldn’t put it past Auston’s smile to make its presence known in Toronto, even when it’s in Arizona. Auston’s smile is a pretty powerful thing.

“I hate you,” Mitch says, but he’s smiling too, and Auston probably fucking knows it, because he’s the worst. “Like, a lot.”

“Alright, assholes, either get a room or meet us at Tilted Towers,” someone says, and Mitch agrees to that readily enough, if only because getting a room isn’t actually an option with Auston being in Arizona, and anyway, Auston texts him to see if he’ll be home to FaceTime later, probably so they can actually talk it out.

……

Here’s another reason Mitch hates Auston Matthews: he texts Mitch two minutes before they’re set to talk, _i need a y/n b4 we ft._

And like, the answer is obviously gonna be yes, but Mitch would prefer to say that, like, face-to-face.

_ill tell u as soon as u pick up i promise,_ Mitch sends back.

_pls?_ Auston asks.

_y, do u need it in writing?_

_maybe_

_fine,_ Mitch sends back, then watches as the grey ‘typing’ bubble appears and disappears three times.

_???,_ Auston finally sends, and Mitch grins.

_1 sec,_ he says, and then he gets up, gets an index card and a Sharpie, and writes ‘DUH’ in capital letters. Then, he opens Snapchat, takes a picture of it, and captions it  _(yes),_ adding a ton of heart emojis.

As expected, Auston screenshots it, and sends Mitch three smiley faces.

If Mitch were in his position, he’d probably err on the side of, like, a bajillion, but Mitch and Auston are very different people.

_call me?_ Mitch says, and he’s maybe buzzing a little. Whatever. Even if the actual climax was an anticlimactic comment in the middle of a game of Fortnite, there’s still been a lot of buildup to this.

_yeah 1 sec :D,_ Auston sends, and if Mitch’s fingers weren’t shaking, he’d probably search their texts to see if Auston’s ever typed _:D_ before. It’s not a very typical Auston Matthews emoji, but then again, this isn’t a very typical conversation.

Unfortunately, before Auston calls, Mitch’s doorbell rings.

He actually groans. Like. Out loud. Auston would be understanding, sure, but Mitch doesn’t want to confirm their relationship while there’re like, Jehovah’s Witnesses, or Girl Scouts, or, like, his mom present.

As Mitch is debating whether to do the polite thing and answer, or wait until they go away, his phone buzzes again, with another text from Auston.

_you might wanna get that ;)_

Mitch stares at it for a second, then looks at the door, then back at the text.

There’s no way, no fucking _way—_

His doorbell rings again, then another time shortly after, and then there’s a rhythmic knocking on the door.

_knock knock-knock, knock knock-knock, knock knock-knock knock-knock._

After a second, Mitch recognizes it, and, yeah. He could kill Auston, he really could.

Seriously. If he didn’t like him so goddamn much, he could kill him.  

“Oh my god,” Mitch says, opening the door, and sure enough, there’s Auston on the other side, looking like he’s about to burst out of his skin. “Mickey Mouse? Seriously?”

“I was gonna do ‘Livin’ On A Prayer,’ but I figured the rhythm wasn’t as catchy,” Auston says, shifting from foot to foot.

“I hate you,” Mitch informs him, as he makes room for Auston to step inside. “Like, seriously, I hate you, and your stupid jokes, and your ridiculous romantic gestures, and just— literally, I just hate everything about you.”

“That’s kind of unfortunate,” Auston says, his voice remarkably deadpan for how much of a nervous wreck he looks like. “Considering I love you, or whatever.”

And Mitch just kind of… melts at that.

“I mean, I love you too, or whatever,” Mitch says, his voice a little softer. “Doesn’t mean I don’t also hate you.”

“Fair enough,” Auston says, a nervous smile playing on his lips. “Happy birthday, by the way.”

“Thanks,” Mitch says. “I’m assuming you flew out here to deliver my gift by hand?”

“Something like that,” Auston says, and he takes a step towards Mitch, but hesitates before he closes the distance all the way.

Mitch would roll his eyes, in different circumstances, but as it stands, he just grabs Auston’s hand, pulls him toward him until they’re standing too close to do anything but kiss, and leans in.

……

Later, after dinner with Mitch’s family—which Auston had been supremely embarrassed about accidentally crashing, though Mitch’s mom had mostly just been amused and more than a little charmed—and some more intimate birthday celebrations, they’re lying in Mitch’s bed in only their underwear, lazily getting to know each other’s bodies through slow kisses and soft touches.

“You know,” Mitch says, “I really do hate you.”

“You say that, but I don’t know if I believe you.”

“I do,” Mitch insists, then kisses Auston, pretending that will somehow prove it. “I really hate you.”

Auston hums contentedly, and keeps rubbing small circles over the skin of Mitch’s hip, like he’s been doing for the last ten minutes. “Well, as long as you’re my boyfriend, I guess I can live with that.”

“Good thing you got it in writing, then,” Mitch says.

“Oh, yeah,” Auston says. “Where is that, anyway?”

“What, the card?”

“Yeah,” Auston says, and then he shrugs. “I wanna keep it.”

“I’ll find it when I feel like moving again,” Mitch says. “Want me to sign it, too? Just to make sure it’s legally binding?”

Auston rolls his eyes, but there’s no trace of irritation to to be found, only pleased fondness. It’s a good look on him, honestly. “It’s a cute souvenir.”

“You’ll just lose it on the plane back.”

“Not if I keep it in my wallet,” Auston says.

“You mean, like, the way people used to carry around photos of people before phones existed?”

“Something like that, yeah,” Auston says.

Mitch slowly shakes his head, smiling so wide it’s almost embarrassing, except Mitch has never been embarrassed about being happy before, and he isn’t gonna start now. “You see, this is why I hate you.”

“Really? That?” Auston says, grinning right back.

“Yep,” Mitch says, and then he tucks his face into Auston’s chest. “s’also why I love you, though.”

“Fair enough,” Auston says, wrapping an arm around Mitch to squeeze him, soft and tight, before pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead, because he’s a giant fucking sap, and Mitch hopes he never, ever changes.

**Author's Note:**

> i've never played fortnite but my partner told me that twisted towers is the place to go if "you're a madman and don't mind dying" and that seemed up their alley
> 
> i'm lottslottslotts on twitter and lottswrites on tumblr!


End file.
